Hope Working Title
by 1965 Mustang
Summary: The story of three people trying to survive over seven months into the zombie apocolypse, all the while being hounded by the undead.


Two sets of feet pattered down the country road. The sun is just beginning to set; creating a wonderful pastel of colors that should evoke creativity and romance. But not today.

"These days a sunset was no more beautiful then those clumps of dead shit that we call, "zombies." I know, I know, sounds like folklore, right? Well, somehow, in some freakish way, it came to be reality. No one knows the reasons behind it, because everyone is too busy trying to survive."

These two people are Michael and Samantha. Michael is a man of roughly 20, with a tinge of 5:00 o'clock shadow gracing his face. Samantha is, or was, the Goth. She is 16, but dressed like an experienced hunter. This may come from the fact that the two raided a Sporting Goods store, but that's beside the point. Their car had run out of gas a few miles back, after Mike desperately attempted to fix it's faltering engine. This, unbeknownst to the pair, only drew feral zombies from deep inside the echoed woods. There was no other option but to start running; their weapons long out of ammunition.

"So, what the fuck do we do know?" Samantha said in a sharp-tongued manner. She was obviously pissed; she didn't feel like running, or even walking, after adjusting to the comfort of the truck.

"Don't be so angry. If anything, we're better off." Michael was calm and well mannered, and would almost never raise his voice at a woman.

"Oh yeah? How? I'd like to know."

"Well first of all, we don't have to worry about making deadly trips to get gas. I mean, that shit cost your little brother an arm and a leg, remember? And second, it's a lot quieter. Can we get moving now?" Michael was secretly spying a small house that had light emanating from a solitary window, which was odd because power had been gone for several months. "Just follow me quietly, and stay quiet. Got it?" He said in a whisper.

The small house had 7 foot tall barbed wire fencing, and upon closer inspection it revealed mines were placed in a strategic manner outside on the dead lawn. The building had an ethereal feel to it, as the light shone ominously against the darkened houses.

"Looks like someone's got quite the Home Security system...no need for ADT here." Samantha stated in awe.

"What manner of person makes it so apparent that they're hiding? And then leaves the light on?"

"Why don't we go an see?" Samantha smirked, and the pair walked toward the house.

In the back of the house there was a small doorway, and it hung ajar on a single rusty hinge. Not a sound was coming from the house, but the light remained on.

"Wait out here Samantha, I'm going to take a look inside." Michael was creeping into the building unarmed, but he hoped that he wouldn't need a weapon in the first place, judging by the security out front. The kitchen was an absolute mess; it seemed as if a large fight had taken place. Several bloodstains adorned the stove door. As he went further into the kitchen, the refrigerator door slowly swung open. Being a curious being, Michael went to see the cause, and he saw a head and a ragged limb that ill-fit inside.

"Oh my..oh, fuck." Michael's hand went up and covered his mouth, as he backed away from the refrigerator. As he walked backwards, he felt a cold, metal cylinder press against his head.

"Speak." A deep voice said.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Tyrone. And you might be?" The man said, lowering his weapon. He was an older African man who looked to be in his late 40's, and seemed to be ex-Military.

"I'm Michael." As he said this, Samantha came running inside. She seemed a little nervous. Tyrone once again raised the shotgun, and pointed it right at Samantha. He pulled the trigger, and buckshot caught her in the abdomen. She instantly clutched the wound, and fell onto her knees. Deep red blood flowed through her fingers, as she said, "What...?" with a gasp. Tyrone had a look of utter horror on his face as he realized he was watching this girl die. He quickly ran to the kitchen to grab the First Aid Kit, as he prayed he could save her.

30 minutes passed...

Samantha had lost a lot of blood, but it appeared she'd live. How long, was still up in the air, but at least she had time. Tyrone was tending to the wound he had inflicted, feeling remorseful. All his friends told him he was too jumpy to use a gun, and it turned out they were right.

"Samantha, I would like to offer you my remorse for shooting you, as I could not tell you were human at first glance."

She mumbled something in agony, and Tyrone moved in closer. "You son of a bitch...I hope you fucking burn..." She was very spiteful, as she had come so far and survived so long just to be gunned down by a lunatic.

"Look, I apolgized to you and --" He was interrupted by several loud cracking sounds. A multitude of zombies had suddenly arrived through the unlocked back door, and they were looking for trouble. They were decayed and monstrous beasts, with a howl of Hell's worst demons. Michael came immediately running from the bathroom, raising a pistol with Tyrone had supplied him with. The abominations sprinted with the spirit of an Olympic runner, as they had spotted an easy meal. Tyrone began escorting Samantha into another room, because she would have no chance in her current state. Michael ran up to the small end table and grasped it's edges. He flung it at the zombies with an inhuman force, knocking a number of them over, giving him more time to react. He picked up his gun and began taking potshots at the closest attackers, taking them down with the prowess of a sniper. The forerunners had fallen, letting the ones behind them trip and stumble over the bloodied corpses. Using this distraction, he ran back over to Samantha and Tyrone, and swiftly shut the door behind him. They 3 were now inside a small bathroom, with a small, dirty window above the bathtub. The door was weekend from many years of use, but they hoped they wouldn't get to see it break.

"You think any of us could fit through that window?" Tyrone asked.

"Maybe, if we squeeze through. It looks like a tight fit, though." Michael replied as Samantha slowly regained some strength. Tyrone opened the window, and glanced down at the grassy ground below.

"O.K, I'll go first, then the girl, and then Michael. This way someone can help her out." As said, Tyrone slipped through the window, and landed several feet below. As Samantha started to climb out, Michael heard a sharp crack from behind him. The wood was starting to splinter and crack apart, as there was little time left. Samantha also clambered through the window; as Tyrone helped get out. Now only Michael was left inside. As he stepped into the bathtub, the door cracked in half, and the horde came crashing through; hands bloody. Michael turned around and shot a few of them, missing most of the time before escaping. Everyone had escaped the house, unharmed. Michael and Samantha now puzzled where to go next, but Tyrone had an idea.

"What do we-" As Samantha started to speak, Tyrone cut her off, saying, "Don't ask. I have my car around back, in case you didn't notice." He said with a smile. He jingled the keys in the air, in front of the two.

"I know of a small strip mall a little further into town. It's been looted, but I think it should still provide some shelter." The small truck spewed a smoke with a horribly rotten smell, as it had not been used or even taken care of. The town was a small sight; one of those towns you could blink and miss. But it still had a main street, only filled with burnt-out cars and corpses. Tiny homes and storefronts also provided scenery for the trip, and appeared pretty intact. Michael made a note of this for future reference. As they got to the center of the town, the Strip mall started to come into view. It had several stores, including a small fast food joint, and a sneaker store. It was fairly long, and it dipped in sharply at the center, creating a square indentation in it, and also revealed a small Travel Agency and a small coffee shop. Only one car hung around the darkened mall, and the store fronts all had the metal gates closed in front of them. Stairs led up to the second floor, revealing a slew of corpses lying on the wooden deck. Tyrone shut off the truck, but left the keys in the cab. The group got out of the truck, and quietly shut the doors. As they moved forward, a smell greeted them the likes of which no man should smell. A small gun store was the cause, as several bodies riddled with bullet holes lay on the gravel. The door opened with a pleasant chime, as bells hung over the doorway. As the sound echoed through the building, a small mechanical click was heard, as if a revolver was being cocked.

"Freeze motherfuckers!" A voice yelled from the dark. "And drop the weapons."

It had turned out the man was the son of the shop keeper, and had been hiding out. But it turned out he was infected, and his last wish was to be killed before he turned. Michael unhappily volunteered, but Tyrone did it instead, having more experience with death. The man had said, however, that some of those bodies outside were actual people he had shot, saying that they wanted in and threatened him if he didn't give up his supplies. His body was dragged out so the store wouldn't smell. The shelves had several guns and some ammunition left, but it was no where near enough to allow the three to become mini-Rambo's.

"Grab as much as you can, because we have to clear this place out before we can stay. You can never be too sure, these days." Tyrone advised. The group began grabbing light weight automatic pistols, ammo, and small drawstring bags laying around on the floor. Since they shouldn't stuff ammo in their pockets, the bags served as an ammo carrier, and could be used for other supplies. Samantha grabbed the last shotgun left in the store, and jokingly pointed it at Tyrone. He wasn't amused, so she loaded the weapon and strapped it around herself. By the time the 3 were finished, the store was completely empty, even though it wasn't that full to begin with.

"I'll clear the bottom stores, while you and Samantha take the top." Tyrone ordered. His tone of voice hinted that he was once a Drill Sergeant, and still commanded authority.

"Why do we have to take the most disgusting floor?" Samantha barked.

"Because it's the safest. Those things don't like using stairs that much, and you'll have an easier time seeing up there. Besides, you can offer me cover if I get in a tight spot." Michael also agreed to Tyrone's plan, and helped reinforce Samantha's confidence in the plan. As they left the front door of the gun store, however, hell opened up. Somehow the zombies had sensed they were inside, and began bumbling around the front of the shop. It wasn't like the movies; in the movies they uselessly bang on windows until the glass breaks, but it looked like they were waiting to get the jump on them. It was still pretty dumb on their part, but it was the most organized thing any of them had seen them do. Not wanting to waste precious ammo, Michael had taken lead and started heading for the stairs. They were old and creaky, making the two feel very unsafe running up them. As Michael stopped at the top of the steps, he requested Samantha's shotgun. She tossed it over to him, and shot the creatures that were running up the stairs. Since the stairs were steep, when the first one fell, it knocked down the others like a domino set. He used the opportunity to shot the ones on the ground with the lock. More were heading for the stairs, however, and it was starting to look bad. He no longer saw Tyrone, either.

"Get to the hardware store, Samantha! I'll take care of these son of a bitches." He gave the shotgun back to her, as zombies ran up the stairs. She headed toward the small store, stepping over the rotted bodies with great care as to not step in them. The zombies were now nearing the top step, and Michael was busy reloading. Just as he took aim again, one of the beasts plowed into him with great force, knocking him a few feet back. Several others surrounded him, getting ready to dig into his flesh. But an unlikely heroine came to the rescue at the first signs of scuffle. She gingerly aimed at them, and she effectively became bait as their cold eyes fixed on her. She jumped off of Michael's prone body, and sprinted towards her. She saw a small propane tank lying on the floor, and shot it. Nothing happened; it was empty. She then shot one of her assailants, taking it down. It crumpled into a pile of rotted flesh, and died. She was now looking for an escape route, as there were now too many in her presence to keep fighting. Stairs lie just on the other side of the Strip Mall, and if she ran fast enough she could outrun those dead fucks. She just put this plan into action when multiple handgun rounds cut through the zombies' heads, dropping them effectively. No more zombies were in sight, and the mall had become a grim scene of gory death. Almost all of the looted ammunition had been expended in the battle, leaving the group with precious few bullets. If another threat of similar magnitude had presented itself, there would be no chance to survive. Michael was all too shocked to see he lived, since as soon as he got jumped he started praying. If he never found Samantha on that bus, he'd have been dead.

Tyrone then came charging up the stairs, looking frantic.

"I heard screams, and gunshots. I thought you were in trouble, but I couldn't find you. Everyone all right?"

"Um, yeah, we're all right." Michael then proceeded to listen to Tyrone's second phase of the plan.

"Now, that wasn't exactly expected, but at least we caught them now instead of in the middle of the night. But anyway, now we have to secure this place. After that commotion, I do not find the First floor safe. Since the Hardware store is up here, we can use the supplies in there to make a temporary barricade across the stairs. It'll at least let us hear those rotten fucks coming up, so we don't get eviscerated in our sleep. But first, we got to clean this mess up. It's putrid."

It didn't take to long to drag the bodies into a pile away from the mall, but it got dangerous a few times when a curious critter would come over and try and grab a bite.

"Lemma go see if I can siphon some gas out of that car over there. I want to burn these corpses." Michael said.

"My siphoning hose is in the back seat of my truck. It should be unlocked, but be careful over there." Tyrone said. Michael really did need the element of being careful, as he thought of himself as quite the sneak. The truck quietly sat in a small puddle of oil and water from the rain, and smelled like a rotten egg. The truck's door opened with an annoyingly high-pitched squeak. Michael cringed for a split second, and then relaxed when no attackers revealed themselves. And crawled into the back of the pick-up's back seats, and found the siphoning hose under a pile of junk. As he backed out of it, however, he was slammed back into it by a zombie. It mustn't had heard the squeak, or did and just waited. Either way, he was once again pinned down by one of the beasts. It was darting at his neck, desperately trying to rip out his jugular. He struggled against it's advances by shoving it's body up towards the roof, slamming it into it multiple times. It had still been hissing, as this action had only aggravated it. Then the thing knew just trying to bite him wouldn't work, and then began clawing at his face. It roared in the process, causing Samantha and Tyrone to spin around towards the scene. Tyrone pulled the knife he found in the gun shop from it's sheath, and ran towards the truck. The zombie's head twisted in Tyrone's direction, hearing his pattering feet. It proceeded to jump off Michael, and charge Tyrone. He continued on, though, making it seem like a game of chicken. He then drove the knife into the zombie's skull as hard as he could as he ran, then swiftly pulled it out before it caused him to stumble. Michael was out of the truck by now, holding the hose. He walked over to the bent over man, and asked him if he was okay.

Between pants, he said, "Yeah, just got to catch my breath is all." He stood up, then continued. "It's not easy for a man of my age to run that fast."

"Well, you'd better be O.K, because now I owe both you and Samantha one." Michael said with a chuckle. "You don't want to die before I can repay the favor." Tyrone just grinned back at him, and said thanks.

Smoke rose from the burning pile of bodies as the gang watched from a distance. A miasma of death permeated the air, as the smoke was filled with the bacteria of the dead. As it burned, it was time to secure the fort, so to say. The sign out front of the hardware store read, "Mustang's Hardware," and was filthy from age. It store was dark inside, except for a small, nearly-melted candle. There was no owner of this upon further investigation, as the place had been ransacked and riddled with bullets. Coagulated blood was spilled upon the floor, and rotted bodies littered the store in a sort of macabre fashion. Several planks adorned the store room door, while a pounding emanated from beyond. It was a very puzzling thing to see, or hear in this case. Unlike the gun store, however, the store's stock was almost completely untouched. Nail guns, 2x4s, sandbags, and other items were still in full stock, while others were slightly picked through. It was a lucky find indeed, until growls came from the darkness deeper within the bowels of the store. Tyrone raised his weapon, going into an alert stance. He was expecting enemies to fly out from the dark, but instead a small, furry dog jumped out. It was a very frail-looking thing, as if it had trouble scrounging for food. Samantha lovingly ran over to the dog, only to have it run between her legs. A figure staggered forth from the darkness, and as it revealed itself, it showed it was horribly disfigured. These things usually sprint like demons, but this one couldn't. It had rounds of buckshot imbedded into it's knees, guts spilling from it's torso, and a missing arm.

"Was this thing used for fucking target practice?" Michael said, holding back bile. He couldn't stand to look at it anymore, and shot it. The body fell back within the shadows, becoming hidden once again. Now focusing on their next objective, Tyrone found a wheelbarrow in the rear of the store for the use of carrying supplies. They started gathering sandbags and power tools, trying to map out a plan to hold the dead back. It would be crude, but anything was better then a face full of rot.

Several sandbags waist-high filled the stairwell, as well as some tall toolboxes and bags of grout. It ended up about 5 feet from the top step outwards, creating a formidable barrier. Well, at least formidable to the undead, rotten fucks. As long as they didn't draw attention to themselves, it would do. The little strip mall was now looking like a nice little hide-away, and kept the trio nice and snug. Occasionally one of the undead would wake them up during the night, but would be dealt with ease. Life slowly started to grow more and more normal, albeit it was growing tiring at the same time. After a month they decided to see what they could find inside the coffee shop. It had been completely forgotten about when they first arrived, and everyone figured that there might be some goodies waiting inside. Sure, it was 7 months since the outbreak, but there was a chance the guy in the gun shop was keeping it powered, since he had his father's store powered. Surprisingly, there was the usual products in the store that a coffee shop should have, but it was all un-refrigerated and spoiled. It wasn't like it was a necessity, but it would have been nice to have. But just as they were about to go back up to their humble abode on the 2nd floor, a horrible screeching noise came from down the block. As always, the group carried their weapons on the raid, and attentively raised them. A large, wood paneled truck came careening down the street at break-neck speed, and in tail was a gaggle of curious zombies. A few more trucks emerged, and joined the lead truck. The creatures were running as fast as their legs would allow, desperately chasing the escaping meal. For a few seconds the trio pondered if they should help or not, and decided it was worth the risk if they could gain an ally. especially one with access to vehicles. They could use more vehicles if they ever needed to escape. The group quickly got inside their truck, trying to start it. The loud cranking of the engine, however, drew the sprinters away from their target, and towards them. They're had to be at least a hundred of them, as they tripped and fell over in each from their close proximity. The truck was refusing to start, all the while the undead gained ground.

"Fuck, why won't it turn over!" Samantha yelled in a panic. As if on cue, the truck started and purred to life. Tyrone backed it up as fast as possible, then spun it around to face forward. The dead were now very close, and he had to swerve and zigzag around them. Some of them overshot the truck and ran face first into one of the Strip Mall's many brick walls, and some running right into the shops. The ones that weren't dead from a fractured skull turned themselves around and reinstated their chase, but it was already too late as the truck skidded out of the Parking Lot and out of sight. The roar of the other truck's engine's could be heard in the desolate town, but it was hard to tell where they were. Unlike their first trip through town, this time zombies were scattered about the street and sidewalk, and fresh looking corpses were busy being eaten. The sounds of the trucks were now becoming eerily still, and more zombie were being drawn from the suburban -type homes. The commotion was drawing an un-welcome crowd, and started to unnerve the trio. Finally, as they went around the corner, the trucks were waiting a little further down the road. They were now still; the engines off. They definitely could not have run out of gas so quickly, so the other option is that the trucks were abandoned by the owners. 


End file.
